


White Ladies of the Noldor and of Rohan

by Arannawen



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And also Aredhel, Because Glorfindel, Eöl Is His Own Warning, Fourth Age, Gen, I suppose the Witch-King as well, Mentions of Canonical Character Deaths, Valinor, but nobody cares about him anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arannawen/pseuds/Arannawen
Summary: Glorfindel tells Aredhel about a fascinating conversation he had with Éowyn
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	White Ladies of the Noldor and of Rohan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceWall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWall/gifts).



In Valinor, the arrival of a ship from Middle-Earth draws a great deal of attention. It was not uncommon, in the Second and Third Ages, for those who sailed to carry letters from Elves still in Middle-Earth to their loved ones across the sea, though such became much less common in the Fourth Age, as the number of Elves still in Middle-Earth dwindled. Aredhel had joined her niece, Idril, and an assortment of other relatives in joining the crowd of elves at the harbor, eager to greet the new arrivals, and, in Idril’s case, meet her grandson. However, upon disembarking, Elrond had gone straight to his wife, and said something that made her face fall. Idril, mother of a half-elven child herself, suspected she knew what it was, and decided that this was not the time to meet Elrond, sensing he and Celebrían would need time to themselves, to mourn the child who had chosen to be counted among the Secondborn. The sheer number of relatives Elrond was now going to meet for the first time would be overwhelming at the best of times, and when Idril ordered various cousins, aunts and uncles to leave her grandson be for at _least_ two days, only Finrod opened his mouth to argue, likely based on his friendship with his niece Celebrían. Before he got a word out, however, Gil-Galad and Celebrimbor, who had known Elrond quite well in Middle-Earth, fixed him with looks that brought to bear all the authority of more time spent as High King of the Noldor in Middle-Earth than all his predecessors combined from the one, and all the inflexible bullheadedness of the House of Fëanor from the other. Thus, Finrod decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valor, and went to greet his sister. After taking one look at him, Galadriel also insisted he not bother her daughter and son-in-law just yet. He obeyed, for it would be a foolish elf indeed who went against a united front of Gil-Galad, Celebrimbor, Idril _and_ Galadriel. 

So it was only several days later that Aredhel discovered that Glorfindel had also returned to Valinor. She found out when he walked into the park where she was sitting in the sun. She was doing so partly because it was relaxing, and partly simply because she could, now that she no longer needed to condition her actions on the approval of Eöl (she liked to imagine that he was both aware of and immensely annoyed by this), and immediately strode up to her. She gestured to the open space beside her on the bench. “This better not be an apology, I’ve heard them from Ecthelion and and Egalmoth already. I didn’t want to hear it from them, and I don’t want to hear it from you. It wasn’t your fault we couldn’t take a direct route and ended up in Nan Dungortheb, that was Thingol, and his idiotic refusal to allow any non-Arafinwëan Noldo to so much as pass though his precious woods. In any case, there was no way you could have found me in that dreadful valley, and I suspect Eöl was weaving his own spells into that cursed mist as well.”

Glorfindel sat, “Yes, yes, I heard from them both that apologizing would only annoy you, so I shall not. Rather, I wanted to tell you about a fascinating conversation I had with a Lady of the Edain, not long before I sailed.”

Aredhel raised an eyebrow, “You do remember that I never actually met any of the Edain, yes? Other than Tuor, of course, once he and Idril showed up. Gondolin was completed well before Finrod encountered them, and while Eöl was happy to trade smithing techniques with the Dwarves, he had no interest in the Edain whatsoever. And, of course, I was dead before Húrin and Huor were even born. However, Valinor is _dull_ , and thus a new tale would be quite welcome, so stay, and tell me your tale.”

And so he did.

Éowyn sat on one of the benches lining the walls of Merethrond, the great feast-hall of Mundburg. She was healed enough to be let from the healing-halls, but her time abed followed by strict orders not to stress her body had left her easily tired. A sudden voice had her looking up, and up, and up, at the tallest elf she had ever seen, towering even over the Lord Elrond and the Lady of the Wood.  
“Mae govannen, my Lady -- or Gōdne ǣfen, I suppose I ought to say -- I am Glorfindel,” he introduced himself, “may I sit? I have been hoping to speak with you.” Éowyn could only imagine one reason why an ancient elf-lord would seek her out, and her shield-arm suddenly went ice-cold. The name was familiar, but she could not place it, leaving her feeling off-balance, so her response was blunter than was perhaps wise here in Mundburg.  
“Certainly, you may, but if you wish to discuss the Dwimmerlaik, I am heartily sick and tired of discussing it. The experience of fighting a battle I had no expectations of winning is one I would just as soon forget.”  
To Éowyn’s surprise, Glorfindel gave her a commiserating sort of look, remembering shadow, and flame, and the wide, frightened eyes of a little half-elven boy. “Indeed, hence why I would not ask you to recount it. I simply wished to thank you for it, and say that when I learned of your deed, I felt quite foolish indeed! For it was I who told Eärnur that I had seen it would be no living man who slayed the leader of the Nazgûl, but, despite having known Idril and Aredhel both, the idea that it would be a woman never occurred to me. I have no doubt they would be quite annoyed at me for that.”  
Éowyn blinked, the elf-lords understanding look, along with the names he mentioned, allowing her to remember where she had heard his name, in stories of a valiant warrior fighting a demon of shadow and flame unaided, so others could escape, and of his return from death. No wonder he understood, it wasn’t as if he’d had any way of knowing, then, that he would be returned to Middle-Earth. It was this realization that caused the true weight of years behind the word ‘immortal’ to suddenly become clear to her. “Of course!” said she, in sudden understanding, “that is why your name was familiar! Glorfindel, of the House of the Golden Flower -- Lord of Gondolin,” here, her voice became more distant “When I was trapped in Edoras, with Gríma leering, watching my every step, the stories of Gondolin that grandmother Morwen told -- she was Gondorian, from Lossanarch -- about Aredhel and her desire for freedom, about Idril fending off the unwanted advances of Maeglin… I would think of them, draw on them, use them to stay strong when Meduseld felt like a cage and Gríma’s leers threatened to become too much. And when I decided to join the éoreds in disguise, I remembered Idril, and her Hidden Way, and how, sometimes, you just know you must do something, even if it means hiding something from -- and even lying to -- your own people, in order to save them. You know, I started wearing all white very young, when I decided I wanted to be a shield-maiden. A reminder, if only to myself, of the White Lady of the Noldor, and of the fact that females have been warriors very nearly as long as males have.”  
When Éowyn first began to speak, Glorfindel gave her a surprised sort of look, but then it became almost grateful. “I was part of Aredhel’s escort, my lady, and to know that her story gave hope to another brave lady, it eases the sting of my failure. She would have liked you, I suspect, she and Idril both.”  
Glorfindel paused, seeming to consider, then continued, “Lady -- Pardon me, Queen -- Arwen has Hadhafang, which was Idril’s sword. I suspect she would be quite willing to let you see it, if you asked. Celeborn would probably be delighted to talk about Lúthien to someone who is interested in something other than the fact that she wed a mortal, while Galadriel will happily tell tales of her formidable aunt Lalwen, who badgered Fingolfin into withdrawing his objection to his daughter training to the blade, and then, with the help of some of Finrod’s dwarven friends, did the same to him until he stopped complaining about his sister learning the sword instead of the just the bow!” Now it was Glorfindel whose voice was distant, as he spoke of days few who were in Middle-Earth at the close of the Third Age, even among the Eldar, can recall.  
“It wasn’t just the Eldar who had warrior-women, either. Andreth, Emeldir and Haleth were all great warriors and leaders among the Edain, though I never had the opportunity to meet them, and if you were to ask Gimli, I suspect he could tell you many a tale of fierce dwarrow-dams -- female dwarves -- in battle. A final piece of advice before I go and mingle once again, my lady: if any foolish lords try to tell you that women don’t belong on the battlefield, and are unwilling to listen to you, I suspect the Lady Galadriel would be delighted to set them straight, it’s been quite some time since she’s had the opportunity to, ah, _educate_ any young idiots . Now, I see your young man -- Faramir, isn’t it? -- headed this way, and doubtless you’d rather converse with him than some boring old elf like me, so I shall leave you be.” Glorfindel was gone before Éowyn could tell him that, far from being boring, their conversation was the most interesting one she’d had yet, in this stilted, overly-restrained excuse for a celebration.

Aredhel sat back, thoughtful. “Well then. You are quite right that had Idril or I been there, we would have smacked you over the head for not considering us ladies as a possibility in that prophecy of yours. Too bad Artanís didn’t do it for us, but I shall have to ask her later just how many foolish men she put in their place that night, as well as her impressions of this Éowyn, though from what you say, I suspect I would indeed like her a great deal. And it is nice to know that I am remembered as something other than a tragic victim, which is how Uncle Finarfin and Aunt Findís insisted on treating me, until Idril and Tuor showed up, and I have no idea what they did or said, but whatever it was, it worked wonders, because Finarfin stopped hovering quite so much, and Findís stopped referring to me as ‘poor dear Irissë’” (Aredhel had spoken these last three words in her best imitation of Findís, which was very good indeed) “which, I assure you, had gotten _very_ irritating, _very_ quickly. Speaking of Idril, she more or less forbade the family from immediately descending on Elrond and Celebrían, and has continued to hold them back thus far, but even with Gil-Galad, Celebrimbor, and Artanís backing her up, I doubt she can stall them for much longer, so you should probably go warn them that they will likely be swarmed with Finwëans within the next few days. Come to think of it, does Elrond even know that Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad were released from the halls? I imagine Celebrían told him, but you should make sure. And while Eärendil is eager to meet his son, he’s not quite sure if he _can_ visit him, what with the two mortals that are apparently staying with Elrond, and that rule about ‘shores where mortals dwell’. I’ve told him he’s overthinking things, as the Valar are not quite that literal, and he is already technically on the same shore as them. However, he’s a Finwëan, with all the stubbornness that entails, so, predictably, he didn’t listen.”

**Author's Note:**

> Earendil's worries about about being on the same shore as mortals are in reference to these lines from the Song of Eärendil (written by Bilbo, as it happens):  
> "But on him mighty doom was laid,  
> Til Moon should fade, an orbéd star  
> To pass, and tarry never more  
> On Hither Shores where mortals are"
> 
> Artanis is another name for Galadriel  
> Irissë is another name for Aredhel  
> Gōdne ǣfen is 'good evening' in Rohirric/Old English (I think)
> 
> Elrond's family tree is... complex to say the least, so quickly:  
> Idril is Elrond's grandmother by way of her son, Elrond's father Eärendil, who, as I mentioned, is himself half-elven, as his father, Idril's husband, is the mortal man Tuor.  
> Aredhel is the sister of Idril's father, Turgon, they are both children of Fingolfin  
> Eöl is/was Aredhel's abusive husband, as well as her murderer.  
> Celebrían is Elrond's wife and Galadriel's daughter.  
> Findís and Lalwen are the sisters of Fingolfin and Finarfin , and so aunt to both Aredhel and Galadriel.  
> Lúthien, aside from being Elrond's great-grandmother, was first cousin once removed to Celeborn, as his grandfather, Elmo (Yes, that is his name), was the brother of Lúthien's father Elu Thingol.


End file.
